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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458194">no place in war (for dreamers and the taste of love)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StorytellerSecrets/pseuds/StorytellerSecrets'>StorytellerSecrets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love in the face of our monsters [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>CT-6116 | Kix Needs A Hug, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Force-Sensitive CT-7565 | Rex, Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Found Family, Gen, Hardcase Has ADHD (Star Wars), Hardcase is smart you guys are just mean, I mean Hardcase and Jesse probably also need hugs so it all works out, Jesse writes poetry, Kamino was terrible and the Kaminoans and trainers should feel bad, Kix has social anxiety, M/M, Poetry, Rex has social anxiety, Secrets, and also the fic itself wanted things to happen, being my own idea of soulmates i made up, extrapolating from a few things, i said so, oh yeah jesse writes poetry, reconditioning mention, rex simply decided for me, that was an accident whoops, the line in the legends wiki where it says medics were made/raised differently, the timeline doesn't make sense and I do not care, this fic was not supposed to be this long, tis simply a brotp with also jessix, uh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StorytellerSecrets/pseuds/StorytellerSecrets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Soulmates?” Jesse asks softly and hope is a fire in his eyes.</p><p>“Soulmates,” Kix agrees.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <b>The official Secret Cupid gift for @valovirta/@mageofnorthernseas</b></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, CT-6116 | Kix &amp; CT-7567 | Rex, Hardcase &amp; CT-5597 | Jesse &amp; CT-6116 | Kix, Hardcase &amp; CT-6116 | Kix, but also with Rex, implied Foxma, mentioned Codex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love in the face of our monsters [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Clone Haven Ship of the Month, Star Wars Valentine's Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no place in war (for dreamers and the taste of love)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingonberry/gifts">lingonberry</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the longest one-shot I've ever written. It's turned in late (technically the same day still because it's 11:55 but we are <i>trying</i> in this house) because of some unexpected circumstances that kept me from being able to turn it in earlier, but here we are!</p><p>Prompts:<br/>Ships: Jesse/Kix, Cody/Rex, Fox/Dogma<br/>Found family: any of the clones<br/>Prompt: soulmate</p><p>Update 2/19/2021: did some minor edits</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one knows where it starts. There are theories, debates, betting pools and betting systems. Scheduled spars and roughhouse brawls are a common way to settle disputes between brothers. They prove ineffective here and only serve to fuel the metaphorical fire. No two battalions can come to an agreement. It’s as though all of them are diametrically opposed.</p><p> </p><p>Decanted from opposite tubing stations, really. Few care to agree unless it means their side gets to win unequivocally.</p><p> </p><p>No one agrees.</p><p> </p><p>There is no other rumor that spreads as rampant through the entirety of the clone army. Fewer are there matters that are held as tightly to their chestplates. No one tells the Jedi. This, if anything, is testament to the Vode’s secrecy.</p><p> </p><p>Still, among brothers, they are adamant in their claims.</p><p> </p><p><em> It started with the Jedi, </em> the 104th insist.</p><p> </p><p>This used to be a spot for debate. Half of the 104th had differed.<em> No, it was the Kaminoans. It must’ve been. </em></p><p> </p><p>In the Abregado system, an ion cannon fired on the 104th Battalion. Three members made it out alive, and only because of their Jedi. General Koon fought to protect <em> them</em>. No one argued when the Jedi became the source of the stories the three remaining commanding officers could tell their army of new shinies. The shinies hadn’t known any better and deferred. Now, 104th is unionized by their beliefs.</p><p> </p><p>The 212th Attack Battalion disagrees. <em> No, </em> they say, <em> it was the trainers.</em> Commander Cody had been trained by Alpha-17. For all that it was on Kamino, he held fond memories of the experience. Most of the 212th’s standard infantry were shiny enough that the Jedi’s change in curriculum had taken place before or during their training. The ones that were not as lucky never have the heart to tell their brothers all of what natborns are capable of doing. The majority know anyway or learn quick.</p><p> </p><p>The 501st Battalion will fight anyone who says it wasn’t the Alphas. Rex clarifies this further. <em> Not trainers, </em> he tells his seconds-thirds-and-fourths, <em> brothers. </em> The distinction is a necessary one: Cody was command class, and thus all of his trainers had been Alpha-level Vode. Rex had been made standard if defective. His inoculation to command training was due to luck, Alpha-17’s reluctant protection, and Cody. Altogether, most of his trainers hadn’t been Vode. Most of his trainers hadn’t been kind, is the unspoken implication. To the standard vod, it never needs to be said.</p><p> </p><p>Other battalions, legions, and corps have wildly different theories.</p><p> </p><p><em> The force! </em> claims the 41st Elite. General Yoda, despite knowing nothing of their stories, cackles in agreement. Their only contender is their commander, who generates a new theory every tenday. In his own opinion, none of his ideas hold merit.</p><p> </p><p>Coruscant Guard’s command is the most unified in their approach. <em> Jango Fett</em>, Commander Fox said once, <em> once, </em>as a joke and under extreme duress (read: coerced alcohol consumption by brotherly figures). It is the story every Coruscant-stationed officer tells their new shinies for years. <em> Jango Fett started it. </em></p><p> </p><p>Fox hates it. Commander Stone takes particular pleasure in this and makes sure to leak extra details to keep the rumors afloat. <em> Jango told us, </em> he tells Thire. Thire grins like a tooka. It’s a Corrie thing, being a bit of a bastard. Keeps the men alive and the dead appeased, they figure.</p><p> </p><p><em> Jango told us, </em> Stone repeats, <em> but Boba told him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Thire cackles like a maniac. He learned this skill from a single mission with General Yoda. It’s an impressive imitation. Fox tries to quit his job on the spot, despite being forcefully employed. Thorn, who is secretly worse and better than everyone else, bribes a shiny into recording the entire affair despite being systems away.</p><p> </p><p>General Windu has a triple-split battalion. His is the only group remaining divided. <em> There is something to be said about his compassion, </em> his secondaries-tertiaries-all-down-to-standards profess. This they all agree on. Their general encourages knowledge to be sought after like no other Jedi. Balance on both sides. Compassion and understanding.</p><p> </p><p><em> He brought all good things to us, </em> the older ones say, and they are adamant in their claim. <em> Can you prove he did not also bring this? </em></p><p> </p><p><em> He was not there</em>. The ones who were caught in the middle of Jedi-sanctioned training changes spark dissent.</p><p> </p><p>The youngest and objectively oddest of the group all say the same thing. It is unrelated to the other arguments. It is the most compelling one they have. <em> There was a clone</em>, they say, <em> and his name was Glitch. He died a hero. </em></p><p> </p><p>The next part they whisper, and only when they’re certain no one but Vode will hear. Even the Jedi are not privy to this secret. <em> They say he used a lightsaber in battle</em>.</p><p> </p><p>There is one more piece to this puzzle, though it is rarely spoken. It is communicated through hand signs in the dark, with one vod’s hands in the other so the listener can understand. It is told once and not repeated. To do so is worse than death.</p><p> </p><p><em> Lieutenant Law said that trooper had the Force</em>.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kix has heard a lot of stories. It’s his job to ensure the safety of his brothers. This includes their emotional wellbeing, even if reg manuals don’t bother to. As a medic, and as a medic of <em> Torrent</em>, there are more clone-told stories that Kix knows of than those he doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>This, largely, is due to three people.</p><p> </p><p>“Get out,” Kix says as firmly as he can. “Jesse, I’m busy. Get out.” He is, in fact, busy. Medical inventories don’t count themselves, and Torrent is ridiculously understocked. Kix has a series of complaints he needs to file, preferably directly to Requisitions.</p><p> </p><p><em> There is no bacta, </em> he would start. <em> ‘No’ as in zero. Zero bacta. For five-hundred and seventy-six troopers. Get me some before I shove a vibroshiv up yours. Sincerely, Kix</em>.</p><p> </p><p>That would do it, hopefully, or at least let Command know why Kix would be pressed with immediate recall to Kamino for “neurological disturbances.” Maybe when they sent Kix for reconditioning they could leave some bacta for the other medics.</p><p> </p><p>Assuming Requisitions would even get the script Kix would send them. They had been <em>busy </em>and <em>lost </em>the last six. Hardly anyone could blame him if he breaks from standard requests now.</p><p> </p><p>The GAR’s Requisitions Department is a joke. Its command has the structural integrity of flimsiplast. The data systems are notoriously buggy. Honestly, a cadet could do better. A cadet probably <em>has </em>done better in off-the-books slicing lessons.</p><p> </p><p>“Kix,” Jesse says. There’s a shove to his shoulder from behind that says <em>pay-attention-to-me-or-I’ll-die</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kix glares at his datapad. “What,” he doesn’t ask. If he doesn’t ask, he can reasonably scream when the answer is stupid. He might scream anyway, though. He’s <em>busy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Kiiiiiix.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What? </em> ” he hisses, aggrieved. The <em>other </em>medics don’t have to deal with people like Jesse. Or Hardcase. Or Jesse and Hardcase together, in the same room. At the same time. He isn’t even going to think about Fives right now. No.</p><p> </p><p>It’s honestly unfair.</p><p> </p><p>Kix turns, glaring his deadliest glare. He’s killed commanders with that glare. It’s a perfected skill he’s honed over years of idiotic injuries and more-idiotic injurees.</p><p> </p><p>It’s useless.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse does nothing but grin back. “Kiiiiiix, I got you a <em> present</em>,” he drawls, eyebrows raised and with his happiest <em>this-is-most-definitely-not-a-prank </em>voice. There are papers in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Clearly, it’s a trap.</p><p> </p><p>Kix doesn’t want to know what they have on them. He absolutely does not. He has a million other things to be doing and he <em>hates </em>when Jesse does this.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly, he hates that it works.</p><p> </p><p>The papers in his hands are real wood-fiber, though, and the writing he can see on them is curled and dark. <em> Calligraphy</em>, Kix knows it’s called. Jesse has told him more than once.</p><p> </p><p>It requires a steady hand and a ridiculous amount of patience. Kix has plenty of the first, but has been steadily running out of the second. He’d been awful at it, the first and only time Jesse had convinced him to try.</p><p> </p><p>More than any of that, though, Kix convinces himself with the practical cost of it all. Turning away a present with real paper and ink is a fool’s errand, no matter what’s on it. Nevermind that Jesse was the one that wrote it.</p><p> </p><p>(Where Jesse <em>acquired </em>said funds in the first place, however, Kix doesn’t want to know under any circumstances. Ever. It’s not worth the risk.)</p><p> </p><p>Kix sighs and stares to the ceiling of the empty medbay. He prays to the Force or whatever else that he gets a break. It won’t work, of course, but the thought is nice.</p><p> </p><p>He looks back to the papers. “Jesse, if it’s another dick joke—” he starts threateningly, but Jesse cuts him off.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not,” he says, and there’s still that quiet excitement that Kix has always seen Jesse with, but there’s something else that lingers at the edges. It has Jesse stiffening his spine and pulling his shoulders up, just an inch. Jesse’s never been one to fidget, but he’s doing some of that, too.</p><p> </p><p>Kix regards him cautiously. It’s clear Jesse is some kind of nervous. Statistically, that’s never a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>Kark. Kix can’t even imagine what it could be that’d make him like <em>that</em>. The man is practically vibrating out of his armor. Kix does <em>not </em>have time for this. He needs to make Jesse leave so he can at least try to finish taking stock of their inventory.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Kix holds out a hand. Jesse gives him the papers.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He does not hear the first stories as a shiny. There is no superior officer grinning knowingly over a unit’s first cans of paint, no squadmates squabbling in barracks or mess halls or batchers giving side-eyes through their buckets as they comm during briefs.</p><p> </p><p>The Vode are curious creatures and they are sharing. What is learned is almost always given. Secrets are for Vode, not from Vode. The distinction is paramount. Information is traded between brothers, sometimes, but more often is swapped or freely shared. Conjecture is given just as readily.</p><p> </p><p>They rumor and grapevine. Tall tales pale in comparison to their dramatizations. In the face of substandard training and information gaps, they <em>gossip</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Medics are the only brothers not prone to gossiping. Instead, they listen. They quickly learned there is much to be accrued from a patient’s thoughts, however, and learning to coax information from brothers is a simple matter of active listening.</p><p> </p><p>Kix gets good at it, with enough practice.</p><p> </p><p>So Kix is young, a six-seven-eight year old cadet. The exact numbers are lost with other details, but he remembers that it had not been raining, on the day of it all, and that it had been another cadet that told him.</p><p> </p><p>The cadet had taken a torn-off droid part to the face. It had torn deep but missed the eyes by fractions of millimeters. He had been deemed, in the end, a still-usable product and thus worth fixing. Kix was able to help him.</p><p> </p><p>Kix thinks he was younger than the other vod. He can’t be sure, really. He had never met the vod outside that one incident.</p><p> </p><p><em> It’ll scar, </em> he remembers he had thought but hadn’t thought to say it out loud. The presumably older vod had been excited at the prospect anyways. He’d asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Will it scar?”</p><p> </p><p>This bit he remembers more clearly. It’d been important.</p><p> </p><p>Kix had gone to shake his head before he’d stopped and bit his lip. It had taken him a moment to find his proverbial footing sometimes, when he was younger. He’d never known how to talk to brothers that weren’t other medics. They required a different sort of approach that he had yet to master.</p><p> </p><p>In time, he would become a worthy adversary in the art of interrogation. Conversation, though, would never be Kix’s strong suit. He wasn’t <em>bad</em>, not worse than the Captain, but he wasn’t talking circles around natborns either. That was Jesse’s specialty.</p><p> </p><p>He still wasn’t good, though.</p><p> </p><p>“Not considerably,” he’d finally settled on. The words fell a little flat, but the vod had been busy being unusually ecstatic and hadn't noticed. Kix hadn’t understood the enthusiasm and had pushed it off as another cadet being a little too proud of their own reckless injury.</p><p> </p><p>Kix had been wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s even the same shape!” the older cadet had later gasped when he’d finally caught sight of his reflection. His eyes were wide and his smile stretching. The scar had been thick and red, spilling across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks. Kix doesn’t remember the vod’s name or if he even had one, but he’d yelled his friend’s one enough. “Shocker’s gonna lose his <em> mind</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Kix remembered acutely that the vod had been command class. On Kamino, CCs had been the least likely to answer a medic’s no-med inquiries. Barring the selected command class cadets that moved to personalized or small-group instructors, most CCs were trained by their Alpha Vode. Generally, this meant fewer injuries. Command class was not as desperate for medical aid. Besides, CCs were expensive to breed. The Kaminoans took more care in keeping them alive. Kix could count on one hand the number of times a CC came to him asking for medical aid outside of the Kaminoans’ knowledge or purview. He didn’t count with standard infantry. It happened too frequently to bother.</p><p> </p><p>They needed less help: they were more likely to ignore or mock inquisitive medics who hadn’t quite learned the art of inquiry. The medics were a different breed of Vode, raised and trained alongside but separated from the rest of their brothers. They weren’t <em>socialized </em>like other Vode. The only context for interactions they had was emergency aid or Kaminoan-instructed learning. Even their minimal combat skills that had been left solely to the standard infantry’s trainers were taught alone. Medics learned on their feet, yes, but the first steps of social behavior were always stumbling.</p><p> </p><p>This vod hadn’t cared. He’d answered every question with an explanation and several of his own. Each had left with more information than they began with. This is how Kix would first learn to approach his Vode, with the transfer of information. The method, which involved only asking his Vode for a trade, was exceptionally effective. It worked too well, really. Kix still wasn’t sure why.</p><p> </p><p>As he’d inquired, the vod had learned extensively about the selection process for medically-trained cadets. Kix, on the other hand, had been informed of something far more precious. Something <em>off the regs</em>. Something that was infinitely more valuable to Vode, as the medics would come to realize.</p><p> </p><p>Kix?</p><p> </p><p>Kix had learned about soulmates.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span class="u">NOT A DICK JOKE</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>We have traded our favors for stars</p>
  <p>that dance in each other’s eyes</p>
  <p>left rulebooks for blasters and blasters</p>
  <p>for smiles</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>How do we say <em> I love you </em></p>
  <p>with no head-to-head embrace</p>
  <p>and without glancing or salute</p>
  <p>how do we cut through flimisplast</p>
  <p>that is each brother’s stationed place</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>I have lost myself</p>
  <p>again, you cannot be surprised</p>
  <p>there is nothing in here</p>
  <p>that can shock you like you</p>
  <p>electrocute me</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>We orbit, flickering binary things</p>
  <p>burning 501st blue eclipses</p>
  <p>directly onto my skin, searing</p>
  <p>like the wit on your lips</p>
  <p>the slant of your grin</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>I will write until my hands</p>
  <p>are taken by you, for you</p>
  <p>keep my words as not memories</p>
  <p>but promises and a prayer:</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Kix, I think we share scars.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Jesse, you <em>shabuir, </em> ” Kix growls at the wall of the empty medbay. The door to his right has been left open. The wall has been the victim of glaring for over ten minutes. It’s not impressed. Kix considers kicking it, if only for the satisfaction. He refrains exclusively because an injury is the last thing one of Torrent’s most experienced medics needs. There is no bacta in the storerooms. There are no injured troopers, either, but time is a dastardly thing. Kix gives it an hour before something life-threatening occurs. They’re <em> Torrent</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Still. “Telling me that and then <em> leaving</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He had read the paper in one go, standing in the middle of the room. Jesse had been gone when Kix had finished. It hadn’t been very long.</p><p> </p><p>Of all the things he’d expected, a confession wasn’t one of them. Moreso, that Jesse had <em>said it</em>, laying Vode tenets out in curling Aurebesh. There it was.</p><p> </p><p>There it <em>was</em>. The words were as damning as they were eloquent. Destruction could be sown with this letter. Their people's secrets were laid bare in the implications of a handwritten love note.</p><p> </p><p>It could be nothing else. The declaration of perceived scar-sharing was not a two-way hyperlane. Kix had not agreed to the likeness of their scars, so Jesse could not call them soulmates. To do so would be worse than death.</p><p> </p><p>There are few things, to the vode, that are worse than death. Kix has seen every one of them.</p><p> </p><p>To repeat a brother’s gaan’ranov was a crime of the highest degree. There was no punishment for repeating another brother’s words because it simply wasn’t done. What was spoken in the dark remained in secrecy. Vode didn’t sell out their brothers, to trainers or Kaminoans or anyone else. Even brothers that hated each other abided by this.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow, Slick had done it. Kix knew that the traitorous vod had disclosed his squad’s gaan’ranov to Rex in an attempt to barter his sentence. Kix does not know what was said. He doesn’t need to.</p><p> </p><p>Brothers do not kill their own, so Rex and Commander Cody had not killed him. It had still been a near thing, and Rex had come back with a black rage Kix had never seen before. The very walls around him shook.</p><p> </p><p>Kix had known the effects of what Slick had shared. Slick’s squad had not been part of the 501st, but every medic got the data. Kix himself had helped run the diagnostics. Brothers did not want to last long after those kinds of things were shared, it turned out. Slick’s squad hadn’t lasted a tenday.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever else, Jesse’s letter stands dangerously close to spilling. The second he’d read it Kix had folded it up and hidden it in an inner-seam pocket of his blacks. Blacks did not have pockets normally, but Hardcase had been surprisingly competent with a needle. Most of Torrent command had him make adjustments to their gear. Kix wasn’t command, but it would do well enough.</p><p> </p><p>There are few other offenses of such a caliber. Kix will die before he sees Jesse harmed, bending the rules or not.</p><p> </p><p>Technically, soulmates themselves are not secret. It is not the idea of having partners that is taboo. What is problematic, really, is the implication that they have souls. The Vode know that nothing good would come if it were to spread.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, talk of soulmates is done quietly. Brothers glance behind their shoulders for natborns before they speak. It is private, but not the ultimate secret. The Vode will not be pleased, but no crimes have really been committed. Between brothers is not an offense, even if it is done with a paper trail.</p><p> </p><p>Kix is more concerned that the natborns would kill Jesse. The implications are too much to miss if you know the lay of the land. Kix does not think the Jedi are cruel. There is a chance they would dismiss the contents of the note itself.</p><p> </p><p>You cannot dismiss a defect, though, and winning enough money to buy the items starts to cross a line Vode cannot uncross. Writing poetry for love is not what they were made for. The Senate is a cruel entity. They would not stand for it.</p><p> </p><p>The Senate would eat the Vode alive. The Jedi work for the Senate. The Vode do not tell the Jedi. No one gets hurt.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse has always toed a delicate line between regs and treason. Kix has always been good at hiding things. In the end, it works out.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kix realizes he hasn’t thought the situation through when Hardcase walks in.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do?” Kix immediately accuses, searching for the injury. “Was it the tibanna oil? Hardcase, I swear to the Force, if you modified your rotary cannon again I’m not helping.”</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase grins, lower-lip tattoos pulling upward. “Nah, Captain banned me from the labs again,” he said. <em> Good</em>, Kix immediately thinks but does not say.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase has a tendency to modify and jury-rig a great many things, and he is the resident off-reg bomb expert. He also, however, has a tendency to make unexplodable devices burst into flames. Generally, it never goes well when Hardcase gets on Rex’s good side again and is allowed back into the tech labs. While it would be better for Kix if Hardcase was <em>never </em>allowed into the labs, Kix knows that Rex could never manage to keep Hardcase out for more than a tenday. He’s too soft, their Captain.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, but have you seen Jesse? I thought for sure he’d be here.” The volume of Hardcase’s voice startles Kix from his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>Kix narrows his eyes. “Why do you need Jesse?” he asks because the situation is already starting to spell out trouble. “And why would he be here?” Jesse and Hardcase are individually, certifiably, insane. Together, they are easily the most troublesome duo in the 501st. Fives and Echo are a close second, but Echo tends to clean up his messes before Kix has to deal with them himself.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase looks to Kix a bit incredulously. “Are you kidding? I think he spends more time here than in his own bunk, vod.” Then, with a flap of his hand, “Anyways, he was supposed to meet me for sparring, but he said he had something to do here first.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix frowns. Jesse had come in to, presumably, annoy him and give him the letter. Then, he’d left. Kix hadn’t given any thought to where he’d gone.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been a little busy trying to think through the whole confession thing. Kark. He still isn’t sure what to do about that.</p><p> </p><p>“He came here,” Kix confirms, “But I don’t know where he went after that.”</p><p> </p><p>Admittedly, Kix has less of a grasp on the ship’s rooms outside of the necessary places. He knows where the mess is and the barracks, but he couldn’t say where the shinies squirreled away to play cards. He’s too busy for that sort of thing. Besides, he’d gotten better at socializing. He still isn’t remotely <em>good</em>, and it shows in his conversations outside of a few particular Vode.</p><p><br/>It’s better if Kix sticks to the medbay, is all. He’d be there if they needed him. Vode like Hardcase and Jesse still find a way to bother him anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase’s smile deflates a bit. “Damn,” he says. Then, mournfully, “I was gonna bet <em> chocolate</em>.” His shoulders slump.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase is happiest when he can share. Kix has found that it’s when Hardcase is made to be alone that is worst. To be unable to share his gifts, even in bets, is disheartening for Vode like him. They like to <em>give</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kix deliberates. He could send Hardcase on his way with the understanding that Kix knew nothing of the day-to-day workings of regular Vode. He <em>could</em>. Hardcase would surely understand. He always did.</p><p> </p><p>The problem, then, is that Hardcase is a friend. Kix is no better than the Captain at keeping his friends away from trouble, but this isn’t real danger. Hardcase wants to do something and Kix can help him do it. He would.</p><p> </p><p>It isn’t just his job. It’s Hardcase. There are few consistent Vode that aren’t medics that come into the medbay nearly every day. There are three of them that come to see Kix, and it’s rarely for treatment.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly, Jesse comes to annoy him. Hardcase comes to tell Kix what’s happening in the battalion and to annoy Jesse. Rex comes to hear the reports that Kix gets from Hardcase because he doesn’t know how to talk to other Vode either. He tries to hold a stilted sort of conversation, sometimes, but neither of them know how to keep it going.</p><p> </p><p>Of regular Vode, it’s defective ones like Rex and Hardcase that Kix gets along with easiest. He thinks every Vode that likes him must be a little defective. He doesn’t know what that says about him. Doesn’t know what it says about Jesse, either, if his theory is correct.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll help you look,” Kix decides. It isn’t an offer, because he’s already made up his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase grins.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You’re an idiot,” Kix had once told Jesse seriously over a mess of paper and ink. “I have never seen someone so intelligent be so stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse had squinted at Kix. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not,” he had admitted after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“It is,” Kix had assured, and Jesse had nodded before pouting. Kix had felt only minorly bad. The situation <em>had </em>implied a clear lack of judgment. “Honestly, why would you even think <em> I’m </em>good with writing?”</p><p> </p><p>They had been sitting on the floor of a disused medbay storage room. There was a bottle of something bitter and very illegally brewed switching between them.</p><p> </p><p>“How was I supposed to know? You write good reports.” Jesse had taken a sip of the bottle and made a face like he’d swallowed lighter fluid. “Ugh,” he had choked, “This is disgusting.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix had taken the bottle with a deft hand. Their fingers had brushed and Kix had shivered at the contact.</p><p> </p><p>Kix had swallowed. The alcohol had done nothing to reduce the dryness of his throat. “Reports are clinical. I‘m good at clinical,” he had said, and Jesse had made a wordless noise of agreement.</p><p> </p><p>Then, looking at his paper, Kix had let out an annoyed, “I <em> suck</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse had protested immediately. He was always quick to fight anyone’s self-deprecation. “You do <em> not</em>.” He had taken a look at Kix’s paper and frowned. “Okay, so you suck a <em> little </em> bit.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix had groaned.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay!” Jesse had assured, drunk. “I can help you fix it.” They then proceeded to haggle over the details of Kix’s attempt.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s supposed to be a comma,” Jesse had accused, pointing a finger at an indiscernible spot on the page. Most of the writing was illegible, with marks and stains covering the page. Half of the page was wet with spilled alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>“Creative liberties,” Kix had protested. The excuse was half-solid, but Kix had been convinced he was right. The drunk haze had been getting thicker and thicker.</p><p> </p><p>“‘s not how that <em> works</em>, Kix.” Jesse had said, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Says who?” Kix had challenged as he’d taken another sip, “You?”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse had frowned and said determinedly, “Yeah, me. It needs a comma.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix hadn’t known how to fight Jesse when his argument was his own conviction. “Okay,” he had agreed. Then, in a fit of inspiration, had told Jesse, “Jesse, <em> you’re </em> a comma.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse had laughed. His grin had pulled at the edges of his face. “You’re <em>funny</em>, Kix?” he had asked, amazed and delighted. “I never knew you were funny.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse had gotten up. “Hang on,” he had said, before taking two steps closer and sitting back down. Jesse had been close enough to bump shoulders with Kix.</p><p> </p><p>“Wanted to sit by you,” he’d said, beaming like the sun. Kix had patted his arm awkwardly. Then, Jesse had said, “I like sitting by you, Kix.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix had made a face like he’d bitten something sour. “You’re nice,” he had complained, and maybe he had been more intoxicated than he’d realized, “Why are you all so nice to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because — because you’re amazing, Kix. You’re the best friend ever.” Then Jesse had gasped, realizing something. “You’re <em> my </em> best friend, Kix.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re drunk,” Kix had said, amused. “And your best friend is Hardcase.”</p><p> </p><p>“So are you,” Jesse had protested emphatically. “You’re the <em>best</em>. And drunk.”</p><p> </p><p>He had, in fact, been drunk.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You’re not an idiot,” Kix tells Hardcase because he knows what his brother thinks about himself. Hardcase is brilliant, but the frequency he thinks at is different. It’s hard not to think your differences are defects, for Vode. “You’re not, but you are wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase frowns from beside him. “No, I’m serious. He’s totally obsessed.”</p><p> </p><p>They’ve been wandering the halls for nearly an hour. Hardcase leads the way, leisurely walking into every room as he rambles about every topic in the Galaxy. Kix humors him, partially because he likes knowing but mostly because Hardcase likes it.</p><p> </p><p>Neither of them knows where they’re going.</p><p> </p><p>“With a <em> shiny</em>?” Kix asks incredulously. “The Commander of the <em> Guard</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase grins a little. “I wouldn’t believe it either, vod, but Fives swore he saw Dogma with him. They were all over each other and, get this, he said Dogma came back with a <em> scar</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Kix stares at him, surprised. “<em>Dogma? </em>” he asks. He’s never actually met the shiny, but he’s heard enough about him from both Jesse and Hardcase. Rex, too, although far less frequently.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase nods. “I <em> know</em>, right?” he exclaims before rounding a corner. “Oh, hi Captain.”</p><p> </p><p>Speak of the Sith. Kix turns a second later. They’re in a lower level of the ship, and Kix can’t think of any reason Rex would need to be down here. Then again, what does he know? After all, Hardcase isn’t looking at Rex like it’s unusual for him to be there.</p><p> </p><p>“Rex,” Kix says, nodding a hello.</p><p> </p><p>“Kix, hi,” Rex says, glancing around like he’s looking for people. Rex almost never says hi, and only when he’s incredibly nervous. He’s either covering for someone else or for himself. Kix knows this, and can tell Rex knows he knows. Neither knows how to address it.</p><p> </p><p>They’re both distracted by different things. Rex can tell it’s awkward, but it’s clear he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kix doesn’t either. Rex also doesn’t immediately recognize the rarity that is Kix leaving the medbay.</p><p> </p><p>It dawns on Rex a second later. “Is something wrong?” he asks because it’s more likely that there’s an emergency he hasn’t heard about than Kix leaving of his own volition. Kix would be embarrassed if he weren’t so self-accepting. He knows how he is.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Kix says.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Hardcase says dramatically, “Jesse is <em> missing</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Rex stands up from where he’s leaned against the wall. His face is all concern and he’s ready to help in an instant. “Is he — ”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s fine,” Kix says, “Probably. We just don’t know where he is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” says Rex flatly, not looking at all relieved. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pause here, awkward and tense. Kix can feel it tangibly, pricking at the back of his neck, and he can tell Rex feels it too. He still looks like he wants to do something to help and just isn’t sure how. Kix isn’t sure whether to say something or to leave it alone.</p><p> </p><p>The silence lingers. Hardcase doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He’s like that. Kix has never had the words to explain how much he’s appreciated it. He thinks he’d call Hardcase something a step up from a friend. Rex, too, though neither are in the practice of making friends and more-than-friends.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you wanna help us look?” Hardcase asks, and Rex’s face goes from surprised to relieved. It’s something Kix wouldn’t have even thought to ask. It’s what Rex needs, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Rex says immediately, “Have you checked the west hangar?”</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase frowns. “No, I didn’t think he’d be there. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Rex doesn’t know how to respond. He reminds Kix of himself from years ago. “I’ve seen him there before,” Rex says eventually.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase nods. “Well, it’s better than we had before. Thanks, Captain. Let’s check it out.” He points dramatically in the direction of the hangar. Presumably. Kix doesn’t actually know where they’re going.</p><p> </p><p>Neither Hardcase nor Kix ask why Rex had been in an unused hangar at the bottom of a venator before. Hardcase and Rex never ask why Kix can’t administer sedatives without his hands shaking, and Rex and Kix never tell Hardcase to stop talking or to slow down or shut up. They never ask, but they probably know anyway.</p><p> </p><p>They walk. Hardcase leads the way. He doesn’t seem to mind, even though Rex outranks both of them. Maybe he can feel the hesitation in Rex’s steps. Maybe he’s just like that.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase starts to ramble as they walk, talking about the architecture and stories and a million other things. Rex and Kix are content to listen.</p><p> </p><p>Kix thinks it’s in the little things, like this moment where they’re all trying to take care of each other without saying anything. He would die for these people. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do.</p><p> </p><p>He’s never really had friends before. He thinks he’d call these ones aliit.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Soulmates, the Vode tell each other, are tied in fate and not destiny. Their lives are connected but not bound, tied without being constrained. They are together but apart. Nothing about them is meant to oppress. They are two equal parties existing together in synchrony.</p><p> </p><p>The medics find that Vode with soulmates last exponentially longer than those who don’t. People with something to fight for tend to want to last longer.</p><p> </p><p>It was something that both sides of the agreement had. It was that, an agreement, a pact between two parties. <em> We are us, </em> it meant. <em> There is something greater in us together than apart. Our scars make us who we are. </em></p><p> </p><p>Kix has seen the power soulmates have. It’s not magic or the Force, but it’s something that Kix hadn’t been able to explain.</p><p> </p><p>A vod had been dying, pinned underneath a tank and bleeding out. There was a hole through his chest the size of two fists. It went all the way through. The brother did not survive. This had not been the point. </p><p> </p><p>He had died, but as he lay dying, he’d turned to a helpless Kix who could do nothing but watch and he’d choked, “It’s for a reason.” The vod that lay next to him unconscious but alive was testament to that.</p><p> </p><p>Vode with soulmates still died. Some died on the field, some died in the medbay. More died on Kamino. They all still marched on, but they did so with a purpose greater than their makings. They died, yes, but before that <em>they lived</em>.</p><p> </p><p>To learn that Rex had a soulmate was not a particular surprise. Kix knew and had seen the viciousness Rex fought with in battle, the desperation that went beyond proving loyalty and winning wars.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Cody,” Rex had admitted in the dark of the medbay once, whispering and terribly concussed. Kix had not been surprised. There was a fervency that could be felt when the two were together, a sense of warm rightness as two puzzle pieces clicked together. The universe sang when they were close and wept when they were apart.</p><p> </p><p>So no, Kix had not been surprised.</p><p> </p><p>What <em>had </em>surprised him was the same concussed vod lashing out in a nightmare and a series of cots and medical equipment scattering across the room. There had been no one else in the medbay, but Rex had been asleep and far away from the objects. He’d woken up at the clattering and immediately could tell Kix knew.</p><p> </p><p>“Rex? What was that?” Kix had asked, but he’d already known the answer. He’d seen Vode like that before, even if they’d never admitted anything.</p><p> </p><p>Rex had told him, terrified and more than a little punch-drunk, his hands shaking as he’d signed a secret a million times more damning than love.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Force. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kix had done his job as a medic. He’s always been good at hiding things. He’d hidden this, from their first General and every natborn officer. He’d kept a mental file of things instead of writing them down. The only defective thing anyone would find was the color of Rex’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>The Force is a cosmic entity. Kix will never claim to understand it. He has always understood Rex. He has kept the secrets of his friends, of too-fast voices and calligraphy pens and connections to the macrocosm. Of soulmates and friends. Of the Force.</p><p> </p><p>Rex has never said what was done to him, as a defect on Kamino. Hardcase has never said where the rest of his batch is. Jesse has never admitted to dreams. Kix has never told them what he’s done. None of them say it. None of them have to.</p><p> </p><p>There’s something to be said, about how wordless this kind of love is and how much Kix wants to tell them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They find Jesse in the hangar. It’s a cavernous room used mostly for storage. Piles of equipment and machinery stack up high towards the looming ceiling. It’s vast.</p><p> </p><p>Rex weaves them through the trails of paraphernalia and to a secluded section of floor. There, in the corner of the space, are piles and stacks of paper. Ink bottles and calligraphy pens rest scattered on the mess. It’s chaotic. There’s something very <em> Jesse </em>about it all.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse is sitting with his back to them. He’s half-lying, one knee under his chest as he writes from the floor. Next to him, there are half-filled papers with ideas and rhythms and everything else. They are sloppily stacked.</p><p> </p><p>It’s small, but it’s something clearly intentional. Jesse knows how to be tidy. His reports and living spaces are immaculate. There is a vulnerability in keeping this space chaotic.</p><p> </p><p>None of them say anything. It’s a place that feels almost sacred, like ancient Jedi Temples and cemeteries. They are standing in the tombs of greatness, and no one can find it within themselves to change that.</p><p> </p><p>No one talks. Jesse writes.</p><p> </p><p>Kix can do nothing but think of the letter in the pocket of his blacks. It burns against his skin, searing the words into his head. Kix deliberates and takes it out. He trusts the people around him to keep Jesse’s secrets.</p><p> </p><p>He reads it again.</p><p> </p><p>All the meanings are clear. Jesse longs for freedom so he can love, so he can perpetuate kindness and experience the worlds. He loves the Galaxy, far more than anyone Kix has ever met. There is potential in everything to Jesse.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse has said that he plans to live for Kix. It has been declared. Just as Rex lives for Cody, and as Cody lives for Rex, Jesse endures because of him.</p><p> </p><p>Kix has never been good at living. He isn’t sure he knows how to do it.</p><p> </p><p>But with his past at his back, his friends by his side — with Jesse at the front, spilling hope across the pages — Kix thinks he’s willing to try.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re soulmates,” he tells them, his friends and Jesse. Jesse looks up from his writing like he’s not surprised they’re there.</p><p> </p><p>Hardcase is delighted and goes to tackle Jesse in a hug the moment he stands up. Rex is tilting his head and smiling like he’s privy to a secret no one else knows. Jesse is happy and the Galaxy feels calm.</p><p> </p><p>“Soulmates?” Jesse asks softly, and hope is a fire in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Soulmates,” Kix agrees.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There is a theory that Vode like Hardcase and Fives and Echo share. They don’t say it aloud. In the dark, when no one’s watching, they sign it once. <em> It came from troopers that have the Force</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kix has considered this. The origins of soulmates are highly debated. Much of what is said is conjecture. There are too many variables to know what really happened, to find out who first told the Vode about soulmates.</p><p> </p><p>It’s likely the originator is dead. They know this. They theorize anyway, to keep away dark thoughts and darker beings. Everyone has their own secret theory even if they side with their battalion.</p><p> </p><p>Soulmates, Kix thinks, were not made by people like Rex. They did not come from the Force. Kix had wondered, at first, if Jesse had been like Rex too. He’d known that it had been a vod like Jesse who had made it.</p><p> </p><p>There is no place for soulmates in war. No place for dreamers and poets and gifted, talented brothers who could pour their soul into something. There is no place for them.</p><p> </p><p>Kix thinks it means hope, that the Vode are not destined for the eternal life of war. Soulmates are living, breathing signs that the Vode will outlast the fighting.</p><p> </p><p>Soulmates were made by dreamers, and dreamers have no place in war.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments are highly appreciated! There will be at least two more stories for this series.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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